A Very Motive Christmas
by Skylarcat
Summary: It's Christmas time and our favorite detectives have to work. Good thing for presents and mistletoe.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **A Very Motive Christmas  
><strong>Author: <strong>Skylarcat  
><strong>Classification: <strong>Angie Flynn, Oscar Vega (Chapter Story)  
><strong>Rating: <strong>A for Awesome  
><strong>Feedback: <strong>For Christmas, allow feedback to be my gift.  
><strong>Summary: <strong>It's Christmas time and our favorite detectives have to work. Good thing for presents and mistletoe.  
><strong>Note: <strong>Flynn and Vega are characters that do not belong to me. Yes, I have used them without permission. However, no copyright infringement is intended. And I will return them intact and a lot more satisfied.

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**Chapter One:**

'Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas' blared from her car radio for what felt like the billionth time in the last half hour. "Nope," Angie Flynn mumbled to herself, her fingers automatically reaching for the dial, switching the radio off. "Bah humbug," she added for good measure, steering her car down a side street. She wasn't much in the holiday spirit, considering it would be her first Christmas in a long time spent without Manny; he had decided to seek warmer climate with a group of friends along the coast of Mexico. Her baby boy was becoming a man, which meant less time spent with his old mom.

With that thought, she sighed and adjusted the heat in her car, shivering slightly, and made the last turn in the direction of the crime scene. Instantly, her car lit up from the flashing of red and blue sirens of several police cars scattered along the rural road. They were a sharp contrast to the cheerful neighboring houses with their Christmas lights all aglow, their hue dancing along her dashboard in a series of color and she stared there, momentary distracted before glancing through her windshield.

She parked behind one of the squad cars and cut off her engine, leaning back into her seat she spotted her partner right away. He always seemed to have an inherent ability to beat her to every crime scene, and quite frankly it annoyed the shit out of her, his detail to time. It made her look bad. She smiled and shook her head, taking a moment to study him. Her blue eyes took him in with one long glance. He had always been a sharp dresser and of course tonight was no different. He wore tailored dress slacks and a long black jacket over a crisp button-down oxford shirt that made him look professional and very serious; a divergent to her standard attire of combat boots, a low-cut, firm-fitting t-shirt and her favorite blazer. They didn't appear to fit together, but in reality they made the perfect pairing.

Out of the two, he was the calm, overly rational, and incredibly responsible one. Where else, she was the practical, though a bit reckless at times, stubborn one, and they worked well together. They had been partners for several years now, her longest relationship in fact. And she trusted him with her life.

She took another moment to observe him, watching as he breathed in and out tiny white puffs of condensation and air, rubbing his hands together in a futile attempt for warmth. He hadn't spotted her yet and she decided to put him out of his misery and not keep him waiting any longer than needed in the frigid night air.

"Howdy partner," she shouted in his direction, catching his attention over the roof of her car. She lowered once more, disappearing in her vehicle to reach across the seats to the glove department. She opened the module, digging deep beneath the random items until she felt the object that she was looking for. A moment later, she unwrapped the cherry lollipop, placing the sucker between her lips before discarding the paper along the floor mat of her car. She stood once more, shutting her car door and jogged the short distance over to where he stood.

"Ho. Ho. Ho," he greeted her as she stepped onto the curb, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

She arched a brow, a smile already spreading across her lips. "Who you calling a ho?" Immediately, his cheeks turned a deep shade of red, and she knew it wasn't a result from the cold air. She rubbed her hands together, quite amused with herself and glanced around the area. It was your normal suburban neighborhood, where all the residents knew each other and didn't have to lock their doors. And murders, well they never occurred. That is until they did, which is why they were called out there in the first place. The wind crackled around them, blowing her blonde locks in every direction and she tilted her head, glancing at her partner. "Burr," she stuttered, "What are we doing here? It's Christmas."

Her partner lifted the yellow caution tape and gestured for her to pass under. "Yeah, well you know what they say, Ang, nothing says the holidays like a homicide." She snickered softly as she bowed beneath the tape, waiting for him to join her.

"So what's with the lollipop," he asked, pointing in the direction of her mouth.

She pulled the sucker out and pointed it at him exaggeratedly. "What? Don't judge me. I didn't have time to grab dinner." She held out the lollipop to him. "You want some?"

He held up his hands in protest and took a step back gingerly. "I think I'll pass this time, but thanks for the offer."

She shrugged, placing the lollipop back inside her mouth. It was his lost. "You have any plans for the holidays," she inquired as they approached the house, her eyes taking in their surroundings. The house was of average build, two stories with pale yellow siding and green shutters. It had a long wrap around porch, adorned with brown flower boxes; empty now, except for the snow. She paused at the door, pulling the sucker from her mouth once more. "This is a pretty nice house."

"Yeah, it is," Vega agreed, his own eyes darting around. He paused, stepping an inch closer to her. "Nothing concrete," he stated, his eyes locking with hers, answering her earlier question. "Family stuff," he shrugged. "What about you?"

She thought for a moment, her eyes lowering to stare at the welcome floor mat. "The usual, twenty-four hour marathon of a 'Christmas Story'," She glanced up, catching his stare and smiled. "Or if I am really bored, there's always 'The Breakfast Club'."

Her partner actually laughed out loud at her suggestion, soft crinkles forming around his eyes. He ran a hand along his scruffy beard, eyeing her incorrigibly. "The Breakfast Club, seriously Angie?"

Her eyes grew wide, her mouth coming slightly ajar. "Vega, how could you not be a fan of 'The Breakfast Club', it was only the pivotal turning point of my adolescence. Everyone could identify with at least one of the characters, come on." She slapped him on the shoulder with one of her gloves. "You cannot be serious, right now."

Just then the door swung open. "Feliz Navidad," Lucas greeted them with an eager smile.

She glanced at Vega, pointing a finger at him, then turned facing Lucas. "Thoughts on 'The Breakfast Club', Go."

Lucas stepped back, allowing them to cross the entry. "The Breakfast Club was only the best movie ever made, a true classic, depicting the trials and tribulations faced by society's youth, timely as it may be, its theme, to this day, still resonates; the desire to belong. I've always identified with Anthony Michael Hall's character."

Vega made a face, causing Angie to hit him in the chest. "He played the nerd," she clarified, a smirk forming along her lips.

"Well that explains it," Vega whispered to her and she bit her lip, attempting to restrain from laughing.

"What do we got, Lucas?" she asked, narrowing her eyes at Vega in warning. She reached into her coat pocket, pulling out a pair of blue latex gloves. She arched a brow, turning in a complete circle, taking in the space. To the left appeared to be a study or a small office, in the center of the room was an oak desk with two leather chairs. In the corner stood a large hutch, made from wood with panes of glass in the doors. To the right was a hallway that led to the kitchen, and there is where they discovered the body.

"The deceased: Sarah Walker, a forty-nine year old, white female," Lucas began. "The cause of death appears to be blunt trauma to the head."

Angie squatted, to get a better view, brushing a strand of dark hair away from the victim's forehead. She examined the deep gash that ran along her skull, the blood already beginning to dry. She stood up, glancing around the kitchen. "What do you think," she asked over her shoulder. "Death by fruitcake?" She picked the dessert up, weighing it in her hand. "It could be used as a brick."

Vega scrunched his face at the fruit concoction and poke at it from where she held it in her hand. "Not sure if being hit by one would cause death, but certainly eating it could."

She laughed at her partner's dry tone. "Awe, what's the matter, Vega? Not a fan of fruitcake?"

"No, I consider myself more of milk and cookies kind of a guy," he answered, examining the lock on the door. He turned the knob a couple of times and glanced in her direction. "No sign of forced entry."

She walked over to inspect the locks on the windows and shook her head, indicating that everything appeared in order.

"And I don't see a chimney for the perp to have come down either," Lucas interjected, laughing at his own joke.

Angie shot Vega a look as he rolled his eyes. "How long did it take you to come up with that line, Lucas?" He asked.

"She knew the killer," Angie confirmed, interrupting the jousting and fought back the urge to smile. Lucas was young, still fresh and a bit zealous at times, and her partner was always quick to bust his balls. She walked over to the refrigerator, taking note of the items that graced its doors. There were a few magnets, several photos, and a pamphlet that caught her eye. She pulled it down and held it up, reading the words, "First Baptist Church of God." She titled her chin towards Vega, and handed the pamphlet to Lucas, who promptly placed it inside an evidence bag. "May be worth paying a visit to, perhaps someone there knew our victim."

She strode past Vega into the study, stopping to look down at the desk calendar. "She had today's date circled with a note, 'Meet Matthew'."

"So who is Matthew?" Vega asked, writing in his notepad.

She pointed her finger at her partner. "That's the million dollar question." She turned, pausing at the corner hutch. It was a light shade of brown; the top couple of shelves were cased in glass and contained what appeared to be fine china. The lower half was opened, housing a nativity scene, larger than what Angie was used to and she studied the sculptures for a moment. In the center was the manger that held baby Jesus. Next to that stood Joseph and Mary, who stared down lovely at their baby. She scrutinized the scene, a nagging feeling growing in the pit of her stomach, and then something caught her eye.

"Hey, Vega, come look at this." He stepped up next her, glancing at the nativity scene to see what it was that had caught her eye. She pointed to the couple of statues in the back. "Unless my math is wrong, I believe we are missing a Wiseman."

Vega's eyes lit up like a Christmas tree upon hearing her discovery. He quickly reached over, lifting one of the figures up, checking its weight in his hand. "Heavy enough to be used as a weapon."

A smile tugged at the corner of her lips. "I don't know about you, Vega, but I would say murder constitutes making it onto Santa's naughty list."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two:**

Angie glanced up just as Vega was entering the precinct, carrying three cups of coffee. Her eyes lingered there, relieved that her partner knew just want she needed. She watched as he handed one to Lucas and then walked over to her. "Partner," he said, offering her cup to her.

"Did you…" She couldn't even finish the question.

"Yes," he interrupted her. "Cream and two sugars. And…" he paused, reaching into his coat pocket. "A few more packets of sugar. I know how you like it sweet." He dropped the packets onto her desk, smiling at her smugly.

She snatched the cup from his hand and narrowed her blue eyes at him, irritated. "You can wipe that smug grin off your face, Vega," she said, leaning back in her chair and propping her legs onto her desk.

"Don't worry," he replied, heading over to his own desk and taking a seat. He turned his chair so it faced her and smiled in her direction. "One day, you will be able to remember how I take my coffee, but for now I win. Told you I remembered."

She was slightly annoyed that she even agreed to the bet to begin with. Vega had a memory like an elephant, rarely forgot a thing, so of course he remembered how she took her coffee. They had gotten coffee for one another enough times that they should know by now; except that she could never remember how he took his and always messed up his order. So when he suggested the bet, she was quick to agree to it, because if she couldn't remember then how could he. She should have known better.

"It's not normal how you remember things," she snapped, her voice only slightly whiney. She took a sip of her coffee and scrunched her face at him. That only caused his smile to grow wider.

"I get to drive next time," he said, folding his arms behind his head, looking at her amused. "I won fair and square. Besides," he added, "your car's a piece of crap."

She hissed, truly insulted by his comment and reached across her desk, picking up a sheet of paper and crumbled it into a ball. He watched her in questioning, his eyes narrowing slightly, almost daring her. Challenge accepted, she thought; throwing it at him and hitting him squarely in the head. She lifted her fists triumphantly over her head. "I win."

He blinked at her, bewilderment written all over his face, not believing that she had actually just hit him with a ball of paper. She waited for his counter, but his phone went off before he could respond. She watched as he read the text message. After a long moment, he glanced up. "Saved by the bell; Betty wants to see us."

She stood from her chair and followed him down the hallway, in the direction of where Betty waited. He bickered the entire time about how she could have seriously injured him. She rolled her eyes as they entered the examination room, Vega on her heels and whispering into her hair, "You don't play fair, Angie."

"She never does," Betty piped in, stepping out from the corner, cutting them off at the door. The doctor swept a strand of red hair behind her ear, throwing them an amused expression.

Angie frowned. "Hey whose side are you on?"

"The strapping gentleman's side of course," Betty acknowledged, giving Angie a broad smile and batting her eyes.

Angie snorted, used to the banter of her colleague and friend. "So much for girl power," she said, watching Belly as she pulled off a pair of latex gloves and discarded them into the trashcan next to her desk. "Traitor," she teased. She narrowed her eyes as she finally noticed the pair of reindeer antlers on top of Betty's head. "Oh, that's real cute," she said, pointing to them.

The redhead smiled. "You like," she asked, running her hands over the antlers and wiggling her body in a little dance. When Angie gave no reaction, she frowned. "Where's your Christmas Spirit?"

"I must have left it in my other coat pocket," Angie mocked lightly, folding her arms across her chest and leaned against the table, turning her attention to her partner, who stood silently smiling at them, clearly amused at their interaction.

"Hmm," Betty made a sound in the back of her throat and turned to stare at Vega. "You'll have to do something about Scrooge there." Her eyes landed on Angie as she pronounced the word _Scrooge,_ spearing her with a death glare. "No sour-pusses allowed."

Her partner grunted as he stepped up behind her, placing his hands supportively on her shoulders. "Angie's just upset that Manny is a grown-up now, with his own life," he said, caressing his fingers along the skin of her neck. "He won't be home for Christmas," he softly added.

Betty's lips turned downward, realizing her friend's dilemma. "I'm sorry to hear that, Ang. But look at the bright side; at least you can attend the Annual Office Christmas Party." She smiled broadly at the detectives, knowing the annual party wasn't their scene.

"Yay," Angie mocked, waving her hands in the air. "I can hardly wait." She glanced at her watch, noting the time, and in a desperate attempt to avert the conversation before Betty had them committed to attending, she quickly changed the subject back to the reason why they were all there to begin with. "As much as I'm enjoying our time together, I'm afraid we have a murderer to catch. Did you find anything during the autopsy?"

Betty looked at her pointedly, seeing right through her attempt to change the topic. She picked up a file from her desk and handed it to Angie, who gratefully took it, relieved that the doctor wasn't pushing the issue any further. The Annual Christmas Party was the last place she wanted to be at. She had already come to terms with the idea of spending the holiday alone and the last thing she needed was everyone watching as she licked her wounds. She glanced through the file, seeing if anything caught her eye.

"The conclusive findings," Betty announced, staring between the detectives. "Appears to be death caused by blunt force trauma to the head."

"That's not surprising considering how we found her," Vega said, glancing in Angie's direction, waiting to see if there was anything she wanted to add regarding the findings.

Angie read over the report, narrowing her eyes in confusion. She rubbed a hand to her temple, squinting up at Betty. "The toxicology report came back clean," she mused aloud, handing the file over to Vega.

Betty nodded her head. "Clean as a whistle. No drugs in the system. Not even Tylenol. And judging from the lack of defensive wounds, I would say the first blow knocked her out. The strikes after that were to serve a point."

"Overkill," Vega interjected, crossing his arms over his chest. "Usually means it was personal."

Angie thought for a moment, considering the state of the body. "Could a Wiseman do that, Betty?" She asked, trying to gain some clarity on how the woman died.

The doctor looked up at her friend, lifting a brow. "Or a really stupid one."

Angie snorted and shook her head. "Not exactly what I meant," she laughed. "There was a nativity scene at the crime scene with a missing Wiseman that we suspect might be the murder weapon," she attempted to explain.

Betty narrowed her eyes in contemplation. "If it were heavy enough and used with enough force, I would say it's possible." She paused, taking a breath. "So you're both coming to the Christmas Party, right? I hear they're spiking the eggnog."

Angie groaned inwardly. "I…" She began, seeking a good excuse on why she couldn't make it.

"We wouldn't miss it for the world," Vega said, cutting her off.

Before she could stop herself, her arm swatted back hitting him squarely against his chest. If looks could kill, she was sure he would be dead by now. She opened her mouth to protest, but a soft knock on the door cut her off. They all turned in union as Lucas peeked his head in. "Sorry to interrupt, but I have some news." She glanced once more at her partner, indicating to him that this was far from being over.

"Detective Lucas, come on in," Betty said, waving her hand forward. "The more handsome men the better." She walked around her desk and took a seat, shooting the younger man a flirtatious grin.

Lucas's cheeks turned bright red from the doctor's attentions, but he stepped into the room regardless, shutting the door quietly behind him. He nervously shifted from foot to foot, not saying a word. Betty always had a knack for making the younger detective uncomfortable. Angie wondered if he even remembered why he came in there in the first place.

The three of them glanced around, waiting for Lucas to continue, but were only greeted with silence. Finally, Angie couldn't take it any longer. "Spill it," she said.

Excitement practically oozed from Lucas as his words fell out all jumbled together. "Sarah Walker has a son," he revealed quickly, as though he had been waiting all day to tell them.

The build-up, of course, wasn't nearly worth the revelation or the hype. "Is there more to this," Vega asked after a long pause when Lucas failed to elaborate.

Lucas nodded his head, smiling. "There is. Up until a week ago, his residence was that of a rehab facility."

An exasperated sound escaped from the back of Vega's throat. "Why didn't you just say that," Vega asked, shaking his head at the young detective.

"Where would the fun be in that," Lucas asked, grinning at them.

Angie couldn't help but to roll her eyes. "Not much fun in playing 50 questions either," she deadpanned, throwing a look in Vega's direction. "I don't know about you, but I think we need to pay this son a visit."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three:**

It wasn't until an hour later that Detectives Flynn and Vega encountered Matthew Walker outside one of the local coffee shops. The man was a splitting image of everything that represented a bad boy. So much that Angie was certain that if she looked up the definition of _bad boy _she would find a picture of him. He was a tall skinny man with long oily hair, the kind she would have dated back in high school before her tastes became more defined. Nowadays, she preferred men who were sharp dressers and overall the good guys.

He was leaning against the brick building eyeing the detectives indignantly. "You think I'm a suspect," he questioned as he kicked his boot across the gravel, sending a few stones flying in all directions. He adjusted his leather coat over his shoulders and narrowed his eyes at them.

Vega shot her a curious glance from over his shoulder, flipping open his notepad and reaching to pull out a pen from his coat pocket. "Actually, we said we wanted to ask you a few questions. Suspect is a strong word to be throwing around, don't you think?"

Matthew raked a hand through his hair nervously, stopping to rub along the base of his neck in thought. He sighed and leaned his head back against the brick wall. "Listen, detectives, I've been arrested before. I know how this works. But I'm guessing that you already knew that. I'm sure you've read my file by now, seen that I have a record." He watched as Flynn and Vega exchanged glances before he continued, almost snorting at how easy they were to read. "I would appreciated if we could make this quick. I'm starting my new job today."

Angie arched one of her brows and shoved her hands into her pant pockets. He did get one thing right, they did read his file and he did have quite the troubled past. He had dropped out of high school in the tenth grade, started experimenting with drugs; even had been arrested before, though mostly for minor offenses ranging from underage drinking to breaking and entering. His worst crime was roughing up a girlfriend, which judging from the report the girlfriend was equally involved. "So where's this new job at," she asked innocently enough, glancing in the direction of her partner.

Matthew glanced back and forth between them with an annoyed facial expression. "Ace Mechanics," he finally answered. "I got a job working in the back of the shop."

"If you want we can give them a call," Vega began. "See if they would mind us coming down there to ask you a few questions regarding the murder of your mother."

"Jesus Christ," Matthew fumed, kicking the dirt-covered ground once more. "You're going to get me fired before I even start."

"Well then I suggest you answer our questions now," Vega replied, his face void of emotion.

"Let's start with what we do know," Angie spoke from beside her partner and folded her arms across her chest. "We know that you spent the last three months in rehab and we also know that you were released on the same exact day that your mother was murdered. That's one hell of a coincidence."

Vega nodded his head for emphasis. "I'd say."

Matthew sprung forward off the wall then; his arms moving wildly in front of him. "You think I killed my mom," he spit the words out almost with precise venom.

Angie watched him for a moment, noting the evident pain sketched along his features, seeing the way his shoulders sloped and how his eyes changed colors instantly, he didn't look like a guilty man. He looked like a hurt one.

"You need to calm down," Vega interjected, positioning his self slightly in front of her. His movements were automatic and if he had been anyone other than her partner, she would have already been protesting, informing everyone in the room, loud and clear, that she was more than capable of taking care of herself. But she knew that he knew that, so she pretended to have not noticed the gesture. And besides, if she was honest, she kind of liked how he was so protective over her.

Matthew took a breath and a step back, trying to collect some of his composure. "Look," he started to say. His voice was calmer than it was a moment before and Vega stepped back, relaxing slightly. "I called her the night I was due to be released," he continued, glancing between them. "I wanted to see if she could pick me up, give me a ride. Maybe a place to crash while I tried to get my life back in order."

"How did that go," Vega asked.

Matthew shrugged his shoulders. "It didn't," he said. "She never answered the phone. I left her a message, but she never called back. That was the end of it. The next day I was released, she wasn't there. I never saw her." He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a cigarette, placing the butt between his lips and reached for his lighter.

"Rather you didn't, son," Vega told him, cutting his actions off abruptly.

Matthew rolled his eyes displeased, but placed the cigarette away.

"You didn't think it was strange that she never called you back," Angie asked. "I mean, you're her only child and you just got out of rehab…don't you find that a little…" She paused, thinking about the right choice of words. "Odd," she finally settled on.

"Yeah, it's a little strange," Vega agreed.

"I mean," Angie continued. "As a mom myself I couldn't imagine turning my back on my son."

"Is your son addicted to heroin? Has he ever looked you straight in the face and told you an outright lie? Ever steal whatever he could get his hands on just so he could fix?"

Angie shook her head. Outside of the occasional speeding ticket and missing curfew here and there, Manny was an amazing child. He barely cried as a baby and as he got older, it was clear he had gotten his independent streak from her. He learned from his mistakes and had dreams and ambitions and despite her many mistakes, her son turned out to be quite the young man.

"I didn't think so," Matthew said softly. "She was tired. I don't blame her. I would have been tired, too. She gave me so many chances and I messed every one of them up. This time it was going to be different and now…" His voice broke and for a moment Angie thought he might cry, but somehow he managed to collect himself once more. "And now I'll never have the chance to make it up to her."

"Were you angry when she didn't show up," Vega asked; once more provoking their suspect. Angie reached up a gloved hand and placed it sternly on her partner's upper arm. He glanced at her and narrowed her eyes. She knew that sometimes he thought she came off too soft, but really she was just going off her intuition. Sometimes their person of interest screamed guilty and other times they screamed innocent. Sometimes it was just that way, that black and white. And other times they came across the gray area, where things and people weren't as clear. Her gut was telling her that Matthew didn't kill his mom and that Vega didn't have to push so hard.

"Not angry enough to kill her if that's what you're suggesting." Matthew replied.

"Well then you wouldn't mind telling us where you were that night," Vega stated, still looking Angie in the face. She allowed her arm to fall back down to her side.

"I was at an AA meeting. You can call my sponsor and ask him if you don't believe me." Matthew pulled out his wallet and opened it up, searching for a card. "This is his information. We have meetings every Monday night, in one of the empty offices that the hospital provides. I'm sure the hospital keeps a log and I'm sure there are plenty of witness that saw me." He glanced at his watch. "Detectives, are there any more questions or am I free to go?"

"You're free to go," Vega said, stepping back to let him pass. "But don't go too far," Vega called out to his retreating form. Matthew didn't even turn back around. "What do you think," Vega asked, returning his attention to his partner.

"He's a questionable character, there's no doubt about that," she said, eyeing the vacant spot left by their suspect. "But I don't take him as a killer."

Vega chuckled softly to himself and Angie whipped her head around to glare at him. "What's so funny?"

"Let me guess," he said. "You can feel his pain."

"Shut-up," she griped, pushing him hard on the shoulder. "And yes, I could sense his pain. He didn't kill his mom. He wanted to make amends. It's sad, really." For a moment, she thought about her own relationship with her son and how lucky she really was.

Vega rolled his eyes. "Is that what you're going to tell the boss man? If so, I can't wait to see this. 'I think he's innocent, sir. I can just feel it.'" He even attempted to do her voice.

"I do not sound like that," she snapped, scrunching her face at him. "Oh, you're in trouble for that one," she teased. "Yup, just for that you're buying lunch."

"Ouch," Vega said. "Hurt a man where it counts. But don't plan on ordering the most expensive thing on the menu."

"What are you talking about," Angie asked, giving a broad smile and looping her arm through his. "I plan on ordering one of everything on the menu."

Vega laughed as she laid her head on his shoulder, hiding her own smile. She was only partly joking.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four:**

The fax machine beeped, alerting Angie that she was receiving the information that she had requested. She switched the phone to her other hand and reached for the sheet of paper with her free one, trying to reframe from losing her balance in her office sliding chair. Her fingertips just grazed the edge of the paper and she snatched it up carefully, still focusing on the end of the phone conversation, when she noticed her partner.

He sat in the center of the room, right in front of the evidence board, wearing an intense expression. His brows were furrowed and a hand scratched along his beard in thought. She could tell is mind was on overdrive, trying to connect all the dots with that invisible thread. It was the challenging aspect of their job, the navigating through evidence, the unraveling of the motive. She never found him more attractive than in those moments where he was lost in concentration, unaware that anyone was watching. It was as though the room gravitated to his intensity and she was having a hard time pulling her eyes away, and an even harder time at catching the last part of the phone conversation that was coming to an abrupt end in ear.

She hung the phone up and rolled her chair over to where her partner was, bumping against his slightly. He glanced at her as she handed him the paper that she was faxed only moments prior. "He was telling the truth."

Vega glanced at the paper and then at her. "What's this," he asked, taking it from her and reading it over.

"It's the hospital's attendance log. I had them fax it over," she explained. "Matthew did attend AA that night. His signature's number six on the list."

Vega's eyes paused as he located the name and shook his head; dropping the paper down onto the desk and pushing it back over in her direction. He leaned against the chair and folded his arms behind his head, thinking for a moment. "That only proves that he signed in. It doesn't prove that he stayed the whole time. He could have signed it and then snuck out. That gives him more than enough time to murder his mother, or he could have had someone else sign him in."

"Yes," Angie agreed, leaning forward and propping her elbows on the table. She folded her hands together and planted them beneath her chin, giving her partner a pointed expression. "I thought of that as well, which is why I called his sponsor. His alibi checks out. He was there the entire time, which means he's not our guy."

Vega was quiet for a second, drumming his fingers on the table. "What if he hired someone to kill her and used the meeting as an alibi?"

Angie turned her chair slightly, so she had a better view of the evidence board. In the center was a picture of their victim, extended from that were lines that connected an arrangement of other items, including a picture of her son Matthew, as a possible suspect, a copy of Betty's autopsy findings, and a few other items they had found at the crime scene that could be of some importance. Somewhere in that puzzlement was a hidden motive, they just needed to reveal it.

She bit the skin on the back of her thumb, a habit she wasn't able to break, and her go to method of producing a clear thought. She didn't think Matthew was their killer, so the idea that he would hire someone just didn't seem plausible to her. "But why go through all that?" She reasoned. "Why hire someone to kill your mom? She didn't have a big insurance policy; he stood to gain nothing from her death. It doesn't make sense."

"Maybe it had nothing to do with money, but everything to do with revenge," Vega suggested, countering her with his own theory.

Angie shook her head. "Revenge for what exactly? Not picking him up after he got released for rehab? For turning her back on him? I just don't think he's our guy."

"Well people have been known to kill for lesser reasons then betrayal," Vega said. "People have killed for no reason at all, but let's assume he's not our murderer. That means we are back at square one. Maybe we need to look at this differently." He reached across the desk towards a stack of papers, pulling them closer to him. "Lucas took a neighbor's statement at the scene." He searched through the pile of items unsuccessfully. "You know that kid really needs to get better organized," he said, finally locating the file that he was in search for. "It says," he read aloud to Angie. "It was a little after one when I heard a dog bark, I glanced out the window and saw a car. I found it strange because I never seen it before and it was an older car; blue, four-door Pontiac Sunbird. My cousin used to drive one, but around here, you don't see many cars like that."

Angie rolled her eyes. "What's wrong with a Pontiac Sunbird," she asked. "I drove one in high school."

"Well besides the fact that they're ugly," Vega teased.

Angie ignored her partner. "I bet the entire neighborhood just about fainted when I pulled up at the crime scene in my car."

Vega shot her an amused look. "I just about faint every time you pull up in that car."

She pushed him roughly, causing his chair to move. "Shut your face, you love that car."

"No," he argued. "I love that you love that car. There's a difference. Besides, your car would stick-out like a sore thumb in any neighborhood." He ignored the death glare of his partner and continued. "So what was a Pontiac Sunbird doing in an upper-class neighborhood so early in the morning?"

Angie was just about to come up some theories when Vega's cellphone beeped. She watched as he picked it up, read it over and sent back a text.

"What's the emergency?" Angie asked, lifting a brow. "Am I boring you?"

He snorted. "No, I was just alerted that the blood and DNA report finally came in. Told Lucas to pick them up, and see if he can find any local blue, four-door Pontiac Sunbird in the area."

She glanced around the room, noting for the first time that Lucas wasn't around. Suddenly a thought occurred to her and she snapped her head back around to face her partner. "Wait a second," she said. "The results are back? I called down there earlier today and they told me they wouldn't be ready until tomorrow."

Vega flashed her a huge grin and shrugged his shoulders. "What can I say, they like me more."

"Whatever," Angie mumbled, glancing once again at the evidence board. "Okay, what do we know," she said softly, mainly to herself, as she reached for a dry market, biting on the cap for a moment. She stared at the board hard, trying to figure out the whole picture. She pulled off the cap and began jotting down notes. "We know Matthew was at rehab the night Sarah was murdered. We also still assume that the weapon used was the missing Wiseman." She stepped back and examined her work; still pondering what the missing link was when the pamphlet caught her eye. She pulled it down and read the name to herself. She had found it at the crime scene. "What about the church," she asked, handing it to her partner. "Someone there has to know our victim."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five:**

The church was of modest size, located downtown and made of stone; thick and strong. She allowed herself to imagine all the elements it must've faced through the years just to remain standing, all the secrets it contained under its roof. It had a rustic feel to it, with vines and moss growing out of the cracks in the stones, and though it had been sometime since Angie had set foot inside a church, she couldn't help but feel at peace the moment she was inside.

They entered into a parlor, which held a few chairs and led through a series of arches, each leading to another division of the church. She took a breath and inhaled the scent of pine and wood, smiling to herself. It reminded her of the forest her grandfather would take her on walks in. He would smoke on his pipe and stop here and there to explain to her the differences between the trees. Even after his death, there were certain scents she always associated with him, and here in the church she was flooded with memories.

Christmas was very much present, each doorway was adored with two poinsettias, deep red and lush. There was even a Christmas tree located in one of the corners, decorated with lights and draping with tinsel. She thought about all the holidays she spent with her son. How she would wake him up in the early morning hours and how he raced out eager to see what Santa had left him. She missed that, the innocence of seeing the holiday through a child's eyes. This would be her first Christmas she would be waking up alone in an empty house. She frowned and tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear, trying to get her mind back on the task at hand.

Her partner seemed to pick up on her sudden discomfort and quickly reached out a hand, planting it firmly against the small of her back. His touch was warm, even through the thick fabric of her coat. She signed and leaned into him, allowing his comfort without words. His hand adjusted slightly, lowering to wrap his fingers possessively along her hip as he guided her into the next room. Here, the room opened to a larger division. In the far back she could see a stage-like area, which was lined with several pews. She realized that they were standing in the heart of the building; the place people came to worship, to ask for forgiveness, to seek prayers, to confess their sins and wrong-doings.

Angie carried her share of burdens; things that she had done that she wasn't proud of. She didn't really attend church, considering herself more of a spiritual person than religious. But she admired the aspect of faith, of having something to believe in.

She glanced around, noting the several smaller rooms. She guessed that is where they would hold Sunday school lessons, or other classes. Almost as if on cue a lady appeared out of one of the rooms. She was short and stocky and had light auburn hair that fell in curls around her head. She smiled pleasantly at the detectives as she quickly approached to greet them. "Can I help you, folks?"

Automatically, Oscar and Angie lifted their badges in union, a routine they were quite accustomed too. "Detectives Flynn and Vega," Angie stated, taking the lead. "We're investigating a murder and we believe the victim may have been a member your church. Is there anyone here that would know this information?"

The woman appeared completely in shock at hearing Angie's words. "A murder…that's horrible," she paused, trying to collect her thoughts. "The pastor isn't here at the moment, but my name is Peggy White and I guess you can say I'm the person in charge behind the scenes, so to speak. I'm willing to help with your investigation in any way that I can."

"We appreciate that Ms. White," Vega began. "Could you tell us if Sarah Walker was a member of this church?"

Peggy nodded her head. "Sarah's dead?"

"I'm sorry," Vega offered, glancing down at his shoes for a moment before clearing his throat. "Ms. White, we were hoping to get some insight on why someone would want to harm her. Was there anyone in your congregation that didn't like her?"

Peggy's eyes grew wide. "You think someone from the church murdered her?"

"We didn't say that," Angie injected. "We're just trying to get as much information as we can." She shot Vega a warning look. He shrugged his shoulders in response.

"Sarah only recently became a member," Peggy explained. "It's only been about a month since she joined. I can't think of anyone who had an issue with her. She kept mainly to herself, pretty quiet for the most part." She shook her head as she thought for a moment. "Two weeks ago, she did start to volunteer to work in our office, to help with our record keeping and such. We're in the middle of transferring everything over to a computer software program. She wanted to get more involved and with her computer experience, I was grateful for her help." Her voice cracked slightly. "I can't believe she was murdered."

Angie cleared her throat. "You said she was helping transfer records over to a computer program? What kind of records exactly?" She reached into her coat pocket and pulled out her notepad, turning to a blank page, preparing to take down notes.

"I know we are a little behind in modern technology, but as you can imagine the church has limited funds to work with," Peggy said, attempting to give the detectives a small smile. "Currently, we're in the process of switching over our financial records. Sarah was assisting Marie Manuel with that."

"Marie wouldn't happen to be here today, would she," Vega asked.

"Actually, she is," the woman answered, pointing in the direction down the hall. "She's in the last room to the left. I can take you to her, if you wish to speak to her."

"If you don't mind," Angie said, smiling warmly at Peggy.

"Of course," Peggy replied. "But you have to excuse the mess, detectives." She shoved a box aside with her foot. "We are preparing for our yearly Christmas yard sale; all profits go to charity. It's this weekend, if you're interested, or feel free to look around today if you like."

"We'll do that, thank you," Vega offered, as he followed the woman down the hall.

They entered to room to find a young woman sitting at a desk typing away. She had several files scattered around her. She glanced up at the commotion, eyeing them curiously.

"Marie, this is Detective Flynn and Vega. I'm afraid I have some bad news. Sarah was murdered the other night and the detectives would like to ask you some questions." Peggy quickly informed her then glanced at Angie and Vega, stepping aside to allow them to do their job.

"How well did you know Sarah," Vega asked, studying the woman.

Marie swallowed as she wiped her hands over her eyes and through her long blonde hair. "I'm afraid not very well," she explained. "I mean, she just recently started helping out in the office. She seemed like a nice enough lady."

"Can you think of anyone who would want to harm her," Angie asked.

"No, I can't. Like I said, I barely knew her. She seemed to get along with everyone. I'm sorry I'm not much help."

"That's okay," Angie said. "Could we get a copy of the records Sarah and you were working on?"

Marie frowned. "I'm sorry, but those records are confidential."

"Don't be silly, Marie," Peggy interrupted. "It's just our financial records, where the church money is being spent. We have nothing to hide and if it will help with their investigation, I don't see a problem." She picked up a binder from the desk. "I'll make you a copy detectives."

As she headed to the copy machine the detectives made their way out into the hallway, glancing at the items for the yard sale. Angie glanced inside one of the boxes and inhaled sharply. "Hey, Vega, come look at this."

He gave her a puzzling expression as he walked in her direction and glanced over her shoulder. "Well would you look at that," he whispered into her ear.

"Here you go, detectives," Peggy announced, handing them a copy of the records.

"Can you tell us who left this box?" Angie asked.

Peggy glanced in the box and then at them. "Actually, that was left on the doorstep the other night. People are always donating anonymously."

"We would like to take this box with us and leave a donation," Vega said, pulling out his checkbook. He wrote out a figure that Angie couldn't see and handed it to Peggy, who upon seeing the number on the check broke out in wide smile.

"That was very generous of you detectives. God bless."

Vega turned slightly red as he took the box from Angie. "Let's see if this Wiseman is our murder weapon."


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

After finding the Wiseman in the box at the church, the case was kicked into high gear. Just as the detectives figured it would be. Vega had put a rush on it to forensics, hoping to find fingerprints or blood splatter, anything to connect it to their crime scene.

As they waited for the results, Lucas had worked feverously on narrowing down their search for the local blue, four-door Pontiac Sunbird that had been spotted at their crime scene on the night of the murder. After showing the witness several pictures of different year models, he had been able to narrow it down to the models between the years of 1993 to 1994. This had proven to work in their benefit, considering the car hadn't been very popular and even less popular in current registered models still on the road, this cut their list down in size considerably.

Lucas smiled brightly as he thanked whoever he was talking to on the phone, beaming with pride, Angie noted as she watched him amused. He eagerly hung up the phone, only pausing briefly to collect a piece of paper from the fax machine before heading over in their direction.

Vega grinned, noticing the younger detective's excitement. "This should be good," he whispered under his breath to Angie.

This caused her to grin and bite her bottom lip in an attempt to muffle the laugh that struggled to escape her. Either Lucas was oblivious to their amused expressions, or he was one hell of an actor. Either way, his excitement didn't diminish one bit, instead almost appeared to intensify as he reached them.

"I got the DMV to send me over a list of registered blue Pontiac Sunbirds, models from the years of 1993 to 1994 from the last ten years. From that list, I started researching to see which of these cars were still actively on the road."

"Lucas," Vega interjected. "We're detectives too; we know the process of how this works. Can we get to your findings?"

"Well this is where it gets interesting," Lucas explained, his smile growing increasingly larger than a moment before. "One of the names caught my eye. So I did a little digging and you won't believe this." He paused, glancing between the two of them as though he expected them to guess the point he was trying to make.

Angie scrunched her face, glancing at her partner in slight confusion. She threw her hands up. "I give up."

Vega shook his head in understanding and stared at Lucas pointedly. "Alright Lucas, enough with the building of suspense, this isn't the movies. Just tell us what you found," he bickered as he grabbed the sheet of paper from the younger detective's hand. Lucas appeared surprised for a moment, not expecting that. Angie snickered at the antics of her partner and leaned in against his arm, trying to steal a sneak at the paper that he had snatched.

Determined to not allow Vega stealing his paper to deprive him of his thunder, Lucas quickly continued on. "Does the name Marie Manuel ring a bell?"

Angie's head shot up at the mentioning of the name. "That's the lady from the church. Sarah was helping her transfer their files over to a software program. What does she have to do with this?"

By that time, Vega had finished reading over the paper in his hand. He glanced at Angie, passing it over to her. "According to this, Marie drives a 1993 blue Pontiac Sunbird."

"That's not all," Lucas explained. 'It gets even better. I started to do some cross referencing and as it turns out Marie received a speeding ticket in the early morning hours on the same day as our murder. And get this," he added. "It just happened to be a few blocks from our crime scene."

Angie walked over to their evidence board, taping the paper along with their other findings. She grabbed the black dry-board marker and took a step back, glancing at everything. It was all right there in front of her, all the pieces. She just needed to connect it all together. "Okay, so what do we have," she said softly to herself as the wheels began to turn inside her head. "We have our victim Sarah, who works with our suspect Marie at the church." She drew a straight line connecting the two pictures of the women. "This establishes how they knew one another. The speeding ticket proves that Marie was in the general area of our crime scene the night of the murder. And depending on the results of forensics, I think it's safe to assume we have our murder weapon which was found at the church." She placed a circle around the church, tapping the marker against the picture. "Makes for a perfect dumping ground for a murder weapon," she paused, narrowing her eyes in thought. "Hey, Vega, do you recall seeing a blue Pontiac at the church when we were there?"

Vega lifted a hand, scratching along his jawline, his fingers brushing through his beard in thought. He shook his head. "There were barely any cars in the parking lot. In fact, I only recall one and it was white and definitely not a Pontiac."

"So where is her car?" Angie asked. She glanced once more at the evidence board. There was still a piece of the puzzle they were missing. "More importantly," she said. "What's the motive to why Marie would kill Sarah?"

"I know why," Vega suddenly announced. He quickly headed over to the direction of his desk, shifting around a few files until he found what it was that he was looking for. Lifting the record book that they had collected from the church prior, he strolled back over to where Angie and Lucas stood. Flipping through the first several pages, he stopped turning about half-way through and pointed towards some numbers. "This book holds the financial records of the church, money collected from fundraisers, money spent fixing the church up, everything covering their spending. At first everything appeared normal, but then I started to notice slight discrepancies. They started small; a hundred dollars here and there unaccounted for. It's common, so no need for any real alarm, however, the further into the book I went," he flipped through several more pages, pointing out the differences. "As you can see, the church was writing out checks for expenses that shouldn't have cost so much, that didn't match the bills. Like someone was pocketing the extra cash."

"Marie was in charge of the church's finances," Angie piped in. "So if she was embezzling from the church and Sarah discovered this then we found our motive to kill.

"Hate to interrupted," Lucas said, holding up his cellphone. "The forensic results are in on our Wiseman."

**…****..**

The detectives were able to convince Marie to come to the precinct under the pretext of answering a few more questions. Angie and Vega now stood on the opposite side of the interrogation room, watching her through the glass. She nervously tapped her fingers across the table, occasionally lifting a hand to bite on her nails as she continued to glance in the direction of the door anxiously.

"What do you think," Angie asked Vega.

He squinted his eyes. "She certainly seems nervous enough." He turned gaining her full attention. "Are you ready to get this show on the road, partner," Vega asked, wiggling his brows suggestively at her.

She rolled her eyes as she reached up grabbing hold of him on the shoulders and led him out the door.

As they entered the small room, Marie watched nervously as they took a seat across from her. When it came to questioning, Angie and Vega were in their element, able to feed off each other effortlessly. It was one of the many reasons why their partnership worked so well.

"Thanks for coming in," Angie began. "This shouldn't take too long; we just have a few questions."

"Not sure how I can help," Marie commented, sitting back in her chair. She squared her shoulders and gripped the edge of the table tightly. Her body posture suggesting that she was becoming defensive. "I mean," she continued. "I told you everything I knew at the church."

"How did you get to work that day?" Vega asked.

"What," Marie questioned, clearly confused by the question.

"The day we went there, we noticed only one car in the parking lot. We checked it out and it belonged to Peggy White. So how did you get to work?" Vega once again attempted the question.

"I don't see what this has to do with anything, but I rode my bike. On warmer days I like to take my bike."

"You ride your bike in the middle of winter?" Angie asked. "So it wouldn't have had anything to do with the fact that you own a blue Pontiac Sunbird?" To prove her point, Angie pushed over a picture of the car. "We know you're the registered owner of it."

Marie stared for a moment at the picture then pushed it back in the direction of Angie. "So what? I didn't realize there was a law against driving Pontiacs."

"No, no law against driving them," Vega explained, tapping his pen on the table. "However, we know you were driving this car the morning that Sarah was killed. In fact, you got pulled over for speeding just a few blocks from where she lived."

"You guys should be putting your resources to finding Sarah's killer instead of harassing me," Marie snapped defensively. "I let my boyfriend drive my car that morning."

"Actually, that's a lie," Angie cut her off. "See, we talked to the officer who gave you that ticket and he described you to us perfectly. Why don't you start by telling us the truth?"

"How about we begin with the church's financial records? Vega suggested. "We know you've been stealing money from the church. Sarah found out, didn't she? What happened? She threatened to reveal everything?"

"You don't know what you're talking about!" She shouted at the detectives, clearly distraught over their accusations.

"Then why don't you tell us," Vega proposed.

"Not without my lawyer present," she argued.

"That's fine," Angie agreed. "Marie Manuel, you're under arrest for the murder of Sarah Walker." She lifted her hand, indicating that the waiting officers could enter the room now.

Marie stood quickly from her chair as they officers began to handcuff her. "You have no evidence."

"We found the Wiseman you used to murder Sarah with. We have your fingerprints and blood splatter that matches the crime scene. In our world, that's what we call admissible evidence and it will hold up in court," Angie replied.

"I didn't mean to kill her," Marie said softly, causing everyone to go still. "She told me she would give me a week to confess to the church what I had been doing. Who did she think she was? She just started working there, and just like that was going to ruin my life. I tried to reason with her. She just didn't want to hear it. I saw the Wiseman and I just…snapped. I didn't want to hurt her, honestly."

"A woman lost her life. She was a mother and a good person. If you had just came clean, you could have made some arrangement with the church to pay them back. I'm sure they would have been more than understanding of your situation, but instead Sarah was killed and now your life is over." Vega conveyed.

Angie and Vega watched as Marie was led away quietly, both feeling exhausted from the case. Angie sighed, collecting the files from the table. "Sometimes, catching the bad guy doesn't feel as good as you thought it would be," Angie whispered softly.

"No, no sometimes it doesn't," Vega agreed. "All part of the job, partner." He scooped his arm under her own and bumped her on the shoulder. "You did good."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

Angie, being true to her nature, arrived at the precinct late. Usually, she skipped such workplace events, so she found herself at a lost on exactly how dressy or how casual she should dress. She decided to go the middle ground with a pair of skinny jeans, boots, a dressy sweater, complete with a blazer. However, her indecisiveness cost her some time and before she knew it, she was late.

She was sure Vega was probably already inside, annoyed with her tardiness, but as she rounded the corner, she quickly saw his familiar stance. A wave of relief washed over her as she realized that he was true to his word, like always, and had waited outside for her. In his left hand, he carried a tray of something that she couldn't quite make out from the distance, but as he turned finally spotting her, she couldn't hide the smile from her face.

They had decided earlier that they would attend the office annual Christmas party together, in which, she was grateful for. There was no way she would have been able to face this party alone. All the fake holiday cheer, or even the drunken antics of her coworkers would be enough to have her running fast in the other direction, but she understood her partner's reasoning behind why he insisted that they go.

He knew this would be her first Christmas spent alone without her son, Manny. In his mind, the party would offer her a distraction, perhaps even a night of fun, and for that she was appreciative, that he cared enough about her that he would give up his own night, so she wouldn't have to be alone. Vega was a good man; she loved him for that, for caring so much.

As she approached him, he offered her his free arm and without hesitation, she tucked her own arm beneath his, resting her head gingerly against his upper bicep. His wool coat tickled her skin as she pressed herself even closer to him, inhaling deeply the scent of his cologne, finding the closeness familiar and comforting. With him, she could always allow her guard down, to be herself completely. She tucked a curl behind her ear and lifted up her hand, gesturing to the package of cookies that she had brought.

Her partner couldn't hide the amused expression from his face as he glanced down at the cookies. "Seriously, Angie, Oreos," he shook his head, indicating his amusement of the situation. "I see you went all out for the occasion."

She couldn't help but laugh at his comment, both knowing she wasn't much of a cook of any kind. "Hey, at least I didn't show up empty handed," she reasoned as she buried her face in the warmth of his coat.

"At least you shown up," he corrected, his voice lower than normal, but she understood the gratitude behind it. They both knew this party wasn't their thing, but the effort for simply showing up counted for something.

She detected a sweet aroma and instantly her eyes landed on the tray that he carried in his other hand. She lifted a brow inquiringly and slightly elbowed his side. "What's in the dish, partner," she questioned.

He chuckled, knowing his partner's ability to sense food a mile away. "Oh this," he teased lightly. "Nothing, really. Just Fordelejos, an old family recipe."

The admission caused her to grip his arm tighter, forcing him to stop walking. He turned and faced her, giving her a puzzled expression over her sudden action. She stared at him for a moment, warmly taking in his features. She felt a mixture of admiration and wonderment. "Look at you," she whispered softly, her eyes tracing the length of him. "My partner's a regular Martha Stewart. I didn't know you could bake."

"I have to remain a little mysterious," he replied, lowering his eyes to the floor; his attempt to avoid her sudden scrutiny. But she was suddenly more aware of him, for the first time. "Have to keep you intrigued somehow," he added softly, almost as an afterthought, something that he didn't really intend on speaking out loud. But the words were out and she had heard them.

Slight apprehension rumbled within her stomach, fluttering forth like a million butterflies being released from their nets. Hesitantly, she lifted a hand, touching the side of his face. The moment her fingers encountered the warmth of his flesh, his eyes came back up, locking with hers.

"Vega, you always have me intrigued." Her voice was soft and dangerously intimate and the words seemed to hang there in the space that separated their lips. She suddenly wanted to know everything that there was to know about him, wanted to read him like a good book, one in which she never wanted to put down, but instead get lost among its pages, somehow become part of the story. And no matter how many times she read it, she would always find something new, something that she didn't pick up on the first time around, because that was how he was. Always unfolding and refolding, leaving her to discover all the new facets of him, always completely captivated.

His eyes searched her face, trying to expose any sign of hesitation on her part or at least some explanation on exactly what was transpiring between them. When he was greeted with no protest, he took a step closer to her, and she caught her breath in her throat, clasping her fingers along the base of his neck, in her way, anchoring him to her. He leaned in preparing to kiss her, their lips only inches apart when her stomach picked that precise moment to growl loudly. The sudden interruption caused them to weaver, nervous laughter escaping from them both as the missed opportunity vanished within the air around them. Instead he placed a kiss gently on her forehead and stepped back. "Hungry?"

She smirked up at him, allowing her hand to fall from his jaw down to his shoulder, where it now rested firmly. "You know me. I'm always hungry." She smiled warily, knowing the fleeting moment had indeed passed. "So what exactly are fordelejos," she asked, noting that she didn't do a very good job at pronouncing the name, but at least the conversation returned to normal.

He smiled, catching her failed attempt, but chose to ignore it. "Fordelejos are a popular dessert around Christmas time. They're basically small pocket pastries, made of a flaky, thin crust filled with a mixture of ground almonds, eggs, sugar and lemon. You seal them shut, fry them, and afterwards dust them with sugar. Even you couldn't mess these up, Angie."

She laughed loudly at the revelation. "Think you may have too much faith in me there, partner."

"Always," he stated rather defiantly, almost daring her to challenge his belief in her. When she said nothing, he reached under the aluminum foil and pulled out one of the triangle pastries. "Here, try one," he offered, holding it out for her, expecting her to take it from his hand. But she found that she didn't want to loosen her grip on his shoulders, didn't want to lose that connection with him, so instead, she leaned forward, taking a bite of the dessert from his hand. His eyes darkened as he watched her, licking his own lips from the sight.

The sugar melted against her tongue. She could taste the sweet flavor and the lemon, her eyes growing wide. "Oh my god, Vega, these are delicious!" She glanced up to meet his stare, catching him swallowing hard. Suddenly it dawn on her how they must look standing out there in the hallway, her holding on to him for dear life and him feeding her. She could feel herself blush. "Um, maybe we should go inside. Don't want to eat all of them before we get in there."

He coughed, nodding his head in agreement, and without saying anything, simply slipped his hand into hers. Together, they walked into the room where the party was being held. It took Betty only a minute to spot them, she waved and picked up two glasses of champagne and headed over to greet them.

"Oh here we go," Vega whispered in Angie's direction as he turned around to busy himself with making room for his tray of dessert. He then reached for her package of Oreos, snickering to himself as he dropped them among the other platters that contained cheese and crackers and shrimp. Only his partner would bring store bought cookies to a party.

"Thought you two could use a drink," Betty said, as she extended the tumblers out to them.

Both Angie and Vega graciously accepted the glasses, quickly downing the contents. "You look nice," Vega offered.

Betty glanced down at the short green, glittery dress that she wore, trying to pretend to not know how well the dress fit her. "Oh this old thing," She joked. "You two look," she paused noting their empty glasses and how quickly they had swallowed them down. "Thrilled to be here," she finished, reaching for their empty glasses and frowning. "You made it just in time, we're about to start playing some party games!"

"Oh boy," Angie said meekly. "I might need another drink for that."

Betty stared pointedly at her friend. "You're not getting out of this, so don't even think about it." Before Angie could even think to reply, Betty was already waving to someone else. "Oh there's Tom, I have to go say hi. Don't you two dare disappear." And with that, she turned and faded once more into the crowd.

"Games," Vega questioned. "Whose idea was it to come to this again?"

Angie hissed, listing an arm and playfully hitting him on the chest. "That would have been yours, partner."

"Well what do you say we bail?" He asked, glancing at her sideways.

Angie narrowed her eyes at him, inspecting him closely for any sign that he was joking. "But we just got here," she began cautiously, not sure if he was testing her or not.

He shrugged. "Suit yourself, games it is."

She quickly grabbed his hand, leading him towards the door. "I'm sure they won't miss us," she shouted over her shoulder as they made their way undetected through the room and back out into the hall.

Once there, they both leaned against the wall, making sure that indeed no one had spotted them leaving. To their relief, nobody had followed them out. Angie rested her head against the wall and closed her eyes. "Think we're getting too old for this," she asked softly.

She could feel her partner smiling beside her, even though she didn't open her eyes. "No, not too old; we just have better things to do with our time than playing office games."

She snorted and cracked open an eye to peek up at him, amused. "And what exactly are these better things that we have to do, that you speak of?"

He grinned, reaching over to brush a stray curl from her face. "Oh you know… watching The Breakfast Club and eating store bought cookies and milk."

"Now you're reading my mind," she said, tugging on his coat and gesturing towards the door. "Let's blow this popsicle stand." She practically had the door opened when he reached out and stopped her.

"Listen, I know we agreed not to get each other anything for Christmas, but I got you something small." She watched as he reached inside his coat pocket and pulled out a small box and handed it to her.

She didn't move for a moment, staring at the perfectly wrapped box. "Vega," she scolded. "We said we wouldn't do this," she said, lifting her eyes up to look at him. He moved the box closer to her until she reluctantly accepted it. Peeling back the wrapping paper, she noticed the words 'Tiffany and CO.' engraved on the box and right away she caught her breath. Her eyes grew huge as she once more glanced over at him. "You said you got me something small. This had to be expensive."

He just shrugged, pretending that it wasn't a big deal. "It is small; you would see that, if you would just open the box already."

She didn't realize that her hands were shaking until she reached out to pull off the lid. She enjoyed jewelry, but she could never really afford the really nice stuff. And once she saw the piece in the box, she knew right away it was the real deal. She was greeted with a sterling silver necklace, slightly longer in length, which is how she liked them. The chain was bounded by two hearts. Words evaded her and she turned to face him. The only thing she could see was that there were two hearts connected; their hearts.

"Here, allow me," he said, reaching for the box and pulling out the necklace. Somehow, she managed to make herself move as she pulled up her hair, allowing him access to her neck. He quickly clasped the chain together, allowing his fingers to trace the length of it down her skin. She could feel herself tremble under his touch and she knew he had to feel it too.

"Vega, this had to cost a fortune," she managed to whisper as her fingers reached up to touch the hearts. "It's beautiful."

"Nothing but the best for my girl," he said softly and she could hear the admiration behind each word, how the statement bordered on possessiveness. And how it made her heart raced in her chest.

"I almost forgot," she suddenly said. "I got you something, too." She reached into her satchel pulling out the gift and handing it to him. "Guess we both don't listen very well," she acknowledged, watching him carefully as he discarded the wrapping paper to expose her gift.

A surprise expression washed over his features as he glanced at her. "Angie, how in the world…"

She nervously bit the patch of skin on her thumb. "I know you like collecting record albums and I sort of overheard, not that I was eavesdropping or anything," she rumbled on. "I know you were trying to complete your Beatles' collection and the deal fell through." She stepped closer to him, inspecting the album cover.

"Love Me Do/P.S. I Love You," he said out loud, staring intently at it. "It's limited to only 250 copies; it was proven to be quite the hard find. How did you," his voice faded away as he stared at her.

"I'm a detective," she teased. "Perks of the job, calling in some favors. It's the real deal. I had it checked out and everything. Do you like it? Did I do good?"

"I love it, Angie. It's perfect." He reached out to her, pulling her in tightly for a hug, folding her into his arms and kissing her on the head. "You're the best partner anyone could ask for."

She smiled into his neck, shutting her eyes, attempting to hold back the tears that were beginning to build within her eyes. She finally pulled away, grinning at him. "Don't get all sappy on me," she teased. "What do you say, we get out of here?"

"Not yet," he said, tightening his hands on her hips and pulling her flushed against him. She tilted her head back, attempting to look at him, but the movement only granted him better access and before she could protest or respond, his lips pressed against her own.

It felt like a match meeting gasoline; a sudden explosion of emotions, all bubbling to the surface at once. Their bodies moved in union, tangling their limbs around each other, their lips crashing harder against each other, tongues desperately seeking to taste more.

Somewhere lost among the heat and sizzle, they both realized they needed air to breathe and reluctantly pulled apart, both still desperately gripping hold of the other for balance, of sheer fear of losing the other. They stood quietly for a moment, neither knowing what exactly to say.

It was Vega, who broke the silence first. Out of nowhere, he began to laugh hysterically. Angie found herself thrown off by the sudden outburst. "What's so funny," she asked, confused.

He pointed in the direction of the door, the area just above her head. She glanced up and saw the mistletoe hanging and right away she was horrified. "That's why you kissed me," she whispered, feeling hurt and wounded at the realization. She needed air, needed to escape from what was happening. He seemed to sense this in her and quickly reached out, grabbing hold of her arms.

"No, Angie, that's not why I kissed you. I didn't even see the damn mistletoe until afterwards, which is why I laughed. It's like fate had it set that we would have our first kiss tonight, but we didn't need fate's invention, don't you see," he clutched the sides of her face, forcing her to look at him. "I kissed you because I wanted to kiss you. I needed to kiss you. I had too because if I didn't, I felt as though I would die. That's why I kissed you, because I never wanted anything more."

She smiled, lifting her arms to wrap around him. "In that case, we can't allow perfectly good mistletoe go to waste," and with that she found his lips once more.

**THE END**


End file.
